The Tale of Edge Viper
by doom-eagle
Summary: Hope it's good. Enjoy if you want to. Feel free to review, criticise or whatever. My friend Anzer'ke who beta reads and edits for me is having a few minor internet issues at the moment so i couldnt get it to him. Therefore i apologise if it is rubbish.
1. Chapter 1

**Before I begin (Cliché Alert): **This is my first fanfic so I'm probably going to make a _load_ of mistakes, so please don't judge me too harshly. I know I sound like a complete noob, but hey, I am one so there's not much I can do about that… Anyhow, this is set in the world of the Edge Chronicles, probably a little while before the times of young Quint, I'm not too sure myself. Please excuse any problems and notify me of them so I don't repeat the mistakes. Review if you want to, I don't really mind if you mock me ruthlessly, I get enough of that already to be used to it.

_**Chapter 1: The Woodslider**_

As the _Woodslider_ swept onwards, the branches of the highest trees whipping against its bloodoak prow, Captain Edge Viper muttered to himself. It had been three moons now, three long moons, since his lookout Buggin Drots, a short, frail old Fourthling with surprisingly accurate eyes, had last cried "Sky-wreck 50 paces to starboard!" Without any new sky-wrecks there had been no plunder. No plunder meant no gold. No gold meant no food, drink, equipment or rest. And none of these meant trouble for a sky pirate captain.

They were hanging in the hearty of a vicious storm, snow, rain and hail battering each of them from first one side then the next; as the howling winds twisted and writhed to better attack each beleaguered crewman. As Edge Viper surveyed his swaying ship from his wind battered perch on the steering platform, he noted each of his crew; Mardin Flets the Stone Pilot, sheltered from the raging storm in his heavy leather hood and overalls; Hentuck Blatterband the deck hand, tall, broad with bulging arms and a great two-handed blade slung across his back, passed down from his father's father's father down his family until it reached him, as was the tradition in the Deepwoods tribe he came from; there was sharp eyed Buggin and finally the ships quartermaster, Sneevel Quex, tall wiry with a shock of jet black hair and a thin goatee, who disliked the present stretch of non-profit even more that Edge Viper himself. Edge Viper prided himself on his crew, every single one of them a Fourthling, whom he had recruited them from the bars and taverns of Undertown with the simple message: "Are you desperate? Do you need money? Scared of heights? Then come with me."

That had been seven years ago now. Each one of them was now a little older, a little wiser, a little more scarred, than when they had first begun their voyages together. Seven years of wreck-raiding had brought them before things that they would never have dreamed of before. Twisted creatures from Open Sky lurked aboard those sad, dead vessels, each more horrific than the last. Some wrecks had hung in their solitary post for decades, maybe centuries, before Edge Viper and his crew arrived to strip them of their riches, and rid them of their creatures. Seven years ago Edge Viper's long blade had been pristine, glinting with a mirror shine, the blade fine enough to split a hair. Now it was as battle-scarred as the old pirates from whom Edge Viper had heard the stories of plunder and riches in gloomy taverns back in Undertown, the blade darkened with blood and rust, its edge blunted by the thick hides of the many mutated beasts that had met their end at Edge Vipers hand.

Mardin was signaling to Edge Viper. _Down! Down!_ The storm would prove too much for Edge Vipers crew. They had to land. Easy enough to say… Edge Vipers hands leapt to the levers and began adjusting various weights, in an attempt to get his ship level, ready to descend. The levers juddered and fought him as the attaches to each of them were thrown around by the baying gales. As his captain wrestled the ship into position, Mardin began turning a wheel that stood beside his rack of cooling rods. As he desperately spun the wheel, putting his all into this as if it were the last act of his life, a great iron cover began to slowly close around the flight rock, sealing it in, protecting it from the biting squalls. When the rock was sealed within a metal dome Mardin dropped into a small cabin that joined into a hole in the cover so he was alone with the flight rock in an iron chamber. He reached and turned the burners up as far as they would go and added more and more fuel to them. Then he prepared a great fire, beneath the rock any firewood he could find he thrust into the mass of wood. Then he retrieved his firelighter from within the folds of his protective clothing. He lit the end if the long taper with his tinderbox and climbed from the cabin, careful to keep the taper's flame sheltered. He looked over to Edge Viper who looked back with a nod.

At this signal Mardin hurriedly thrust the taper deep within the bowels of the framework of wood he had built up. The fire caught and spread. Soon an inferno was blazing beneath the great stone, heating it to its heartrock. The rock began to grow heavy, then heavier and heavier until the _Woodslider_ began to plummet towards the forest below. Mardin prayed to the Sky. Edge Viper prayed to the Sky. For all any of the crew knew the ratbirds themselves prayed to the Sky. It was a dangerous tactic they used to get themselves out of this mess. The ship hurtled towards the green canopy. Edge Viper peered over the side, careful to grip his Captain's hat tightly, and waited for the time that they were low enough to escape the worst of the storm, but not so low that they would meet their ends on the branches of one of the innumerable trees of the Deepwoods. At such a point he roared down a mouthpiece; "MARDIN!! NOW!!" His voice echoed along a brass tube and into the tight cabin shared by Mardin and the flight rock. At this prompt Mardin pulled three levers with all his strength; releasing a torrent of sand and water over the flight rock and its fire. Then he grabbed cooling rods and pushed them into the stone wherever he could. The resultant freezing of the flight rock gave it new buoyancy, and the ship halted its plummet with a suddenness that set its timbers creaking and groaning in protest.

The ship was under control, with the burners having been relit and the iron cover withdrawn, and Edge Viper descended towards a clearing among some ironwood pines, still battling the winds that came down from the storm far above their heads. The _Woodslider_ came to rest on the east side of the clearing with a thud and its crew leapt over the sides hold ropes, grapples, pegs and all other things that they required to bind their ship to the forest floor. Edge Viper called orders to build a camp while tying off guy-ropes and hammering pegs into the earth with a speed that his seven years as captain had granted him. As night approached Edge Viper and his crew sat around a fire, drinking the last of their diminished supply of woodale and eating the ships final stock of stale black-bread and old tilder meat. They would be able to forage for more in the morning.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2: A Night In The Woods_

The sun had sunk low beneath the great ironwood pines of the Deepwoods, causing their shadows to stretch and swallow Edge Viper's ship and crew.

The woodale in the belly of each crewman gradually took effect. One by one the alcohol made their heads slip ever closer to their chests until all lay sprawled over the forest floor. The fire was burning low. Now and again someone would start in his sleep at the squeak or scamper of some small Deepwoods animal; but he would soon rest again with a murmur and a sigh. All was peaceful.

Well, it _was_ until a great hairy lump burst through the foliage and crashed into the now dead remains of the camp fire. The charred logs splintered and cracked under the beast's immense weight. It lay still with a sigh. It moved no more.

The crew leapt to their feet; hands grasping and clutching for weapons and armoured greatcoats in the pitch darkness. The lack of motion after the previous crash was unnerving. A flame sprang from the darkness. Hentuck had fumbled together a bunch of dry twigs and hastily lit it with his tinderbox.

Using the light from this they each made a torch of their own from larger sticks, leaves and sap from an ironwood pinecone. Now their camp was lit with the warm glow of five torches. They then inspected the corpse of the beast, motionless in the centre of the camp.

It was a hammelhorn. Its fur was bristly with sweat; it must have run quite a way through the forest because none of them had seen a slaughterer camp nearby while they were airborne. It may have been wild, but it looked too well fed and strong to not have been cared for.

In the distance there was howling. Woodwolves. Well, they now knew what the hammelhorn was running from so fiercely. All of them ran for their armour and grabbed their weapons. If the hammelhorn was running, it meant the woodwolves were following.

They came fast. A few dozen blurred shapes bursting from the foliage mere moments after the crew heard them coming.

They burst from the foliage a mere minute after the crew had heard them in the distance. Most were the more common kind; brown or mottled grey, terrifying but not the worst of beasts.

A few, though, bore the pelts that marked them out as some of the Deepwoods' truest killers: pale grey fur with a silvery white collar. The whitecollar woodwolves were rightly feared throughout the Edge above all other breeds of woodwolf. They could bite a great chunk from a plank of ironwood and slice the thickest leather with their hooked claws. Rumour had it that they could blend with their surroundings, rendering themselves invisible; such was the stealth with which they moved; and that they were spawned from the same stock that had cursed the Edge with the Gloamglozer.

The crew had formed a tight circle in the middle of their camp, next to the camp fire, swords pointed out, challenging the woodwolves. Each had a lit torch behind his back; fire was an invaluable tool against wild beasts like these.

The woodwolves began to circle. Froth dripped from the gaping jaws, eager to tear into their new meal. The boldest of their number, a large grey, took a leap for the throat of Edge Viper. The pirate captain held up his blade and the beast skewered its own head, through the upper jaw and into the brain, on the scarred blade.

The creature died instantly.

Unfortunately the defensive action of Edge Viper had two consequences he had not considered. Firstly: the grisly killing of a member of their pack enraged the woodwolves, setting them howling in anger. Secondly: the body of the dead creature on the end of Edge Viper's sword weighed it down, rendering it useless until he could dislodge the bleeding carcass.

The woodwolves stopped their howling and began to advance. They surrounded the pirates, whose captain was furiously kicking at the furry, bloodstained mass on his blade, trying to rid his blade of the burden. The wolves began to close in on the beleaguered men, snarling with their ferocity and hunger.

Three brown ones pounced. One was slashed from the air by Hentuck and another took a flurry of gashes to its face from Sneevel Quex's daggers. The third landed on Mardin, its jaws tearing at the thick leather protecting his neck. One of the whitecollars would have finished him but this was a younger, brown, woodwolf, it was unable to kill him immediately giving him the chance to lash out, killing it with a swift upward stab to its exposed belly.

With that the scene exploded into absolute chaos. The circle of pirates split up as the rest of the wolves attacked. Each pirate fought for his life; slashing at the woodwolves and beating them with the flaming torches. Edge Viper saved the life of Sneevel Quex, pinned down by a slavering mass intent on devouring him. He took his sword and rammed it down between the animal's eyes and then slashing across its throat to ensure the job was done.

After what seemed like a lifetime the last of the wolves lay in a quivering heap, its last breath leaving it through the new opening in its throat that it had been given moments before by Buggin's short blade.

The pirates studied the mess around them. Hentuck and Sneevel were both bleeding from deep wounds granted them by the now dead wolves.

There was a rustle. Edge Viper spun on the spot to see the three whitecollar woodwolves he had seen before flying for him. They had slipped away as the fight started, so as to let the weaker wolves make the kill and take the spoils for themselves.

They truly were clever beasts. Edge Viper felt the combined weight of the three monstrosities crash into his chest, knocking him to the ground. Surely this was to be his gory demise.

It should have; but Edge Viper's time had not yet come. As the woodwolves prepared to tear his body into fleshy pieces three swift bolts flew from the depths of a bush and embedded themselves in the chest of each of the wild slavering creatures. They fell to the mossy ground with a thump and died. Edge Viper looked over to the source of his unlikely rescue, eyes searching the gloom for any clues as to his saviour.

A figure emerged from the bush, a bow and quiver-full of jet black arrows slung across his back and a long knife in his hand. His body an indistinct shape beneath the great, dark cloak that swirled around him, his face completely masked.

The figure approached Edge Viper and spoke.

_To Be Continued…_

**Author's note: So sorry for the rubbish cliff-hanger but I'm in a hurry to get this done today. Merry Christmas to all. Many thanks to my great friend Anzer'ke for editing this for me; it would be a lot worse if he hadn't.**


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3: The Stranger_

The man, for the figure seemed to have the build of a man, spoke in deep, growling tones.

"Why do you seek death so eagerly?"

"Excuse me? What?" stammered Edge Viper at the man towering above him as he lay on the ground, taller than any man Edge Viper had seen before.

"Why are you foolish enough to seek a painful death at the jaws of the Hunters?" the stranger said calmly.

"The Hunters? What are you talking about?" Edge Viper was utterly at a loss as to what the man meant.

"I just saved you from three Hunters," the man explained, addressing Edge Viper like a child, "and, judging by the number of wounds you all carry, you fought off several others beforehand."

"You mean the woodwolves?" Edge Viper asked, stating the obvious somewhat, but his words were useless; the moment a look of understanding had crossed Edge Viper's face, the stranger moved off to inspect the wreckage of the camp. He moved between the bodies of the woodwolves, sniffing their fur, tasting the blood from their wounds from the ends of his fingers and staring deep into their lifeless eyes.

"What are you doing here? Why did you save me? What in the name of the Edge are you doing to those woodwolves?"

"I am checking which pack these Hunters are from; I have been following them for days," told the man, "they took our Herdbeasts. They killed the slower ones, one by one as they caught them. It looks like the whole herd is gone now, the elders will be most displeased. At least our herd has been avenged, the Hunters are dead. As for your other question, I saved you because there was no need for your death."

"Any chance you know if it is likely that another lot of those 'Hunters' will be likely to come by here?"

"When the pack does not receive them back into their ranks in the moon after they left the Hunters will be missed," spoke the man, "until then you will safe from their vengeance. However these Hunters are from a pack in caves far off and must have been away from there for twenty or twenty one days yet. You will not be safe here for long. As for my village, I expect we will see the might of these Hunters' pack soon, they will be angry that some of their number have been slain"

As the stranger turned to leave, Edge Viper realised that his saviour was still a complete mystery to him. The stranger turned and said, as if he knew Edge Vipers thoughts, and said, "I am En'rhhydoq'adsrael'erod. You don't have a clue what it means."

Edge Viper never forgot what Buggin Drots said next. The short fourthling stepped up to him through the heavy silence and said;

"Well that was bloody strange, wasn't it?"

With the sudden departure of En'rhhydoq'adsrael'erod, none of the crew were quite sure of what to do next. Hentuck began to sharpen his sword on a rock, Buggin tended to his wounds before going back to sleep while Sneevel Quex catalogued the Woodwolves corpses in the small notebook in which he kept records of the ship's food stores while ordering Mardin to wipe the blood from the beasts' fur and carry them to the galley.

When morning came a few hours later, Edge Viper noticed a plume of wispy white smoke on the horizon. A village. He rallied his crew and gave them orders to forage some food from the surrounding forest and prepare the ship for flight. He went into the trees himself; to try and find fruits, berries, even some dead small animals, anything was better than nothing. He had with him a piece of barkscroll telling him how to indentify if a plant was edible or not. It was just a long series of questions he was to ask himself and tasks he had to do when he came across a likely item, and if the answer was yes to any of them he was to leave it be and, sometimes, run for cover in case the sounds of his approach caused it to violently explode. The first portion of the aged barkscroll, stolen from a ship of the Minor League of Knowledge and It's Cataloguing, read as follows:

"_If ye comes across a plante in the Deepewoodes ye must be carefulle._

_Walk one circle fully around the plante. If it hath leafs that are blacke _

_On one side, yet redd the other, beware. You have crossed the pathe of a Drakeberry. Keep ye away from the Drakeberry, for should you approach_

_It shall grow fully ten times its own size until its berries are equivalent_

_In size to a Fourthling's head. Then the plante's berries shall burst forth_

_Intent to devour your body and carry it back to the mothere plante._

_If the leafs are deepe purple all around then this plant is safe, save if_

_The plante carries red spines on the southe facing branches, if so_

_It is a Twisted Flamewort and must be avoided at all costes…"_

The barkscroll continued to go on about plants that Edge Viper had never heard of and hoped never to see in his life; and that was just the plants…

He carried on looking for food for about half an hour, finding nothing safe apart from a clear running stream, which he filled as many waterskins as he could carry, and a small bush of small sour green berries that the barkscroll said was safe. Suddenly a cry from of to his right, back towards the camp,

"HELP! HELP! Captain! Hentuck! ANYBODY!"

It was Buggin, as Edge Viper left he had been repairing small tears in the mainsail, but now he was in danger.

Author's Note: Sorry for going overboard with the 'e's back there, I was bored. I'm sorry that it's not as good as the previous two, at least I think so, but I couldn't think about what to write. I promise the next one will be better. And sooner. If I don't live up to the previous promises please don't kill me, please.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter 4: The Village**_

Edge Viper tore through the plants, shrubs and low hanging branches as he rushed to the aid of his beleaguered crewman. As he ran he drew his sword, ready for what might come. He leapt into the clearing in which they had made camp only the night before. As he did so he saw, dark against the shadows of the forest, retreating figures; capes flapping at their ankles. He looked to his ship and saw, tied up and wriggling, Buggin Drots, propped up against the mast. He drew a knife and hurried to Buggin, slicing the ropes that bound him.

"Who were those people?" he asked a trifle predictably.

"I thought they were slavers when they tied me up, Captain," said Buggin visibly shaken, "But they did not take me, they only said that they would kill us if we stayed."

Then, they were interrupted by Hentuck smashing through an intervening sapling on his warpath, brandishing his sword in a challenge the forest, bellowing;

"FEAR ME FELL BEASTS!! I AM HENTUCK, SON OF GORDROCK!! FEEL… MY… WRath… Oh… Umm... Hello... Captain… You... You're already here then... Did I miss much?"

"No, Hentuck," Edge Viper replied, suppressing a laugh, "They tied up Buggin and left as I arrived."

Now the rest of the crew turned up. First Mardin Flets Came hurrying through the trees, weighed down by a large basket, then Sneevel Quex emerged from the bowels of the ship, demanding what the racket was all about and why he couldn't examine the ship's stores in peace.

A half an hour later and they had decided upon a course of action, they were to follow Buggin's assailants and see what they could find. They armed up, secured the ship and set out on the path that the mysterious forest dwellers had left trampled behind them.

Through groves and glades, thickets and thorns Edge Viper and his crew marched; weary and afraid. The denizens of the Deepwoods were, as all knew, vicious and deadly at best and every step could be leading them on towards a grisly end on the claws of some terrible creature or other. After three long hours of trekking, the crew began to sleep on their feet, dozing as they relentlessly put one foot in front of the other, oblivious to the dangers of the forest. This was the perfect time for a predator to strike. And strike, one did.

With a furious hiss, a hoverworm burst from the foliage, tendrils stretching out for Edge Viper's neck. It slid through the air, with the intention of tearing the life from Edge Viper where he stood. The creature flew before Edge Viper's face, a vivid green and yellow blur, an inch closer and it would have grabbed his throat and killed him. This sent a shock to the brain of every crewman who lunged for their sheathed weapons. Edge Viper himself spun as the hoverworm crashed into the foliage on the other side of the rough, beaten path that the crew were following. His sword drawn, Edge Viper stared at the hole in the undergrowth which the hoverworm had opened after missing Edge Viper himself by such a small margin. The bushes rustled, and from their depths, once again, sprang the hoverworm; ready for a second attempt at Edge Viper's throat. But this time its target was ready. Edge Viper had his scratched blade poised, ready to defend himself from assault. The plunged the sword, tip first, into the hoverworm's head, halting the beast in its tracks, twisted it round and sliced the blade out through the creature's side. The hoverworm exploded; sending sickly green fluids all over the crew, staring at their captain as he wiped the goo from his sword and clothes.

The crew stayed alert for the rest of the journey; although nothing as dramatic happened for the remainder of the trek.

The path continued, straight as a Sanctaphrax viaduct; the great trees of the forest their pillars and the squeaking creatures lurking deep in the undergrowth their squabbling academics skulking in their studies. The trampled way opened out onto a full dirt track, and three hundred paces to the crew's left a large wooden gate stood against the forest. Behind the gate and its fence of towering wooden stakes, a thick pillar of dark smoke challenged the clouds.

Minutes later, as they approached the gates, Edge Viper and his men heard steady, chanting; deep voices kept rhythm to steady drums, pounding the air like a monstrous heartbeat, setting Edge Viper's crew on edge.

Suddenly the drums ceased, the voices silenced. One half of the pair of gates slid aside. In the space stood a squat, bent little figure; leaning hard on a knobbly staff for support.

"Come forward and speak children of the sky," the wizened old fourthling said, "our village welcomes you."

Edge Viper stepped up to the threshold and through the gate. The rest of the crew followed suit, ushered on by the old man.

The camp was vast. At its centre was a tall wooden tower, built of logs that were lashed and nailed together. At its top was a platform with barriers on each side that came up to the chests of the watching guards, long bows in their hands, who were posted there. The platform was covered by tanned animal; sewn together and stretched over a timber frame. A rope ladder hung from a trapdoor in the floor of the watchtower. The timbers of the tower were painted with colourful pictures and patterns; depictions of animals and plants covered the platform itself while bright patterns of triangles, rings and convoluted lines covered the supporting timbers. The fire that was producing the column of smoke was twenty paces past the tower, bathing the camp in a warm orange glow. The fire was strange in that it was not very tall, but it covered a wide space. The tents that took up most of the rest of the camp, from what Edge Viper could see, were huddled into tight groups. These groups were organised with a large tent in the centre of a ring of other, slightly smaller, tents. Also the tent groups seemed to have a colour scheme to them: each of the central tents were pure black, one tent in the ring was a vivid red, another was bright white, one was a deep orange, and the other two tents were green; one a dark shade, like the green of the pines on an ironwood and the other, and the other a brighter shade, like the fresh, dewy grass of a Deepwoods glade.

"Come with me," The old man said as he led them on towards the watchtower; and from there to the campfire, "you must learn of our village."


End file.
